The Tales of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Samantha Quinn
by Radioactive Dragon Nephie
Summary: Samantha had been alone most of her life, but had taken an interest in Sherlock Holmes. Without his notice, she followed him. When a note arrived at his door explaining the location of a kidnapper he had been searching for. She had tried on her own, but had failed. Sherlock being the only one she would talk to, took her in. Oc insert. I suck at summaries T-T possible OcXSherlock


**Author's Note**

**Hey, sorry (for those of you who read my Doctor Who fic) for not updating it, but it's kind of discouraging when I don't have any reviews .-.**

**Also, I've been helping my cousin (Meerkat Moka) with a few reports and projects for school, so I don't have much spare time.**

**Plus, I'm staying in America for some time with her, so I gotta have some fun :D**

**Thanks to my wonderful cousin/beta Meerkat Moka for reviewing this and helping me write this chapter!  
**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Sherlock. If I did, it would be called SuperWhoLock. And there would be Winchesters. And Doctors. And Castiels. And Roses...  
**

****This story, at the moment, doesn't really have any like to any certain point in the series. maybe it will in the future, I don't know.**

**...**

Sherlock was on the sidelines with John. He carefully watched as the police kicked in the door of the warehouse he had pinpointed the kidnapper hiding in.

The case he took, at John's persuasion, was a relatively simple task for him. Help a mother find her daughter who had been kidnapped by an infamous criminal who had recently escaped from jail. It puzzled him at first. The criminal had an irregular pattern. Confusing and unpredictable. The second day of his searching did a slip of paper come at his door.

_You're quite smart, I'll say that. I admire you. But it seems I beat you to the chase a bit, Mr. Holmes._

_I love watching you work, and I'm a bit surprised you haven't noticed me standing around. I suppose someone could look over me, a random ginger girl without a home._

_You can mark off sections 3,4, and 1, which leaves 5 and 2._

_XxSam_

He was rather reluctant to follow this 'Sam's advice at first, but after some studying of past records and picking out what logical patterns the criminal had, he deducted that they, had indeed, beat him at his own game.

He wanted to meet them.

Sherlock waited a few moments but no gunfire or shouts were to be heard.

Lestrade slowly walked out of the warehouse.

"Sherlock, can you help us? We've searched everywhere. He's not in sight. Neither is the girl."

He gave a sharp nod as he walked towards the warehouse swiftly. They had to be here. He knew it.

As soon as Sherlock walked into the room, cluttered with steel beams, boxes, and shelves, his mind started whirring with information.

A splat of blood was on the floor, most likely, by the amount dried, had been there about an hour.

Shards of glass were shattered around the dreary, blue, wooden walls. A hole in the wall indicated than someone had put up a fight. Shelves were knocked down as well.

"There was a fight here..." Sherlock murmured. He walked slowly as he followed a trail of disturbances in the dust that had settled on the floor.

They were about halfway through the warehouse when a piece of paper caught his attention.

_Good job, Mr. Holmes, you followed the clues. I myself failed, but I hope you won't, too._

_She's dead, sweet Sherlock, the girl he captured. He's hidden himself somewhere up high._

_XxSam_

The words, hurried and jumbled, were almost unreadable. And written, to his displeasure, in blood.

As they rounded another corner, the mother of the girl let out a high-pitched shriek that made Sherlock almost want to flinch.

"Ally!" She sobbed, running over to the blonde headed girl with red stains over her pink jacket.

Sherlock stood there for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. This couldn't be Sam, could it? No. They had mentioned they were ginger, if that was anything to go on.

Lestrade, who had walked ahead of the group, froze at the sight of another person-a woman-splayed out of the floor. A shallow slash decorated her collarbone with a crimson stain. Other small scrapes and bruises covered her body.

Even so, he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest. It was so faint, he was wondering if he was seeing things at first.

"We've got another one!" Lestrade called to the others, "She's alive!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and walked over to Lestrade.

He faintly heard Lestrade calling for an ambulance.

A faint message written in the dust caught his attention.

_The rafters to the left, Mr. Holmes._

Sherlock looked up, and he saw the outline of a man hanging from the rafters. He pointed it out to Lestrade, and he nodded, murmuring into his radio once again.

Sherlock knelt down next to the woman, blatantly ignoring Lestrade's warnings not to disturb the wounded girl.

He tried to deduce anything about the woman. He figured out that she was this Sam by the note she left, but other than that...

Nothing.

There was nothing about her that would let him figure anything about her.

A group of freckles were scattered around on her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. A small indent of her nose indicated that she might have worn glasses, and her slightly tanned skin showed that she was out in the sun quite often.

Her breathing was ragged and uneven.

It wasn't long before the ambulance came, two of them, to take away the living woman and the dead girl and her sobbing mother.

That night, Sherlock didn't sleep at all. His mind was on this mysterious Sam, thinking of anything he could have missed.

The following day, Sherlock got a call from Lestrade saying the girl had woken up, and that they were going to question her. Sherlock said yes even before he asked. He wanted to be there. He had his own questions to ask this Sam.

He and John set out, and arrived at the hospital rather swiftly, and in even less time, arrived at Sam's room.

She was sitting up and looking at Lestrade, who was talking to her. When he asked her a question, she never answered him.

"She's not saying anything." Lestrade groaned softly as he walked out of the room.

"She's probably in shock." John said quietly, looking at the girl through the glass.

"We don't know anything about her. She won't say her name, no family has shown up, she doesn't have an address. It's almost like the girl does- Sherlock, wait!" Lestrade grabbed Sherlock's arm as he was about to enter the room, "She won't answer you! Plus, if she's in shock, then you won't help any. You're a bit...crude."

"Try me." Sherlock huffed as he pulled his arm out of Lestrade's grip.

She looked up as Sherlock entered the room. Her green eyes watched his every move as he stepped inside and leaned against the wall. They studied each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

"What is your name?" Sherlock questioned, "You're full name."

"My name is Samantha Quinn." Her voice cracked slightly, possibly from disuse. A hint of a smile twitched at her lips, then it disappeared just as quickly. Her green eyes slipped away from his.

"Long for Sam?" Sherlock guessed.

"Affirmative, Mr. Holmes." Her voice was laced with a light British accent.

"You were trying to solve this case on your own. You followed me."

"Correct, Mr. Holmes."

"Do you have any family members that you can go home to?" Lestrade entered the room again.

Once again, Sam ignored him.

"Samantha. Do you have any family?" Sherlock repeated Lestrade's question.

"No, Mr. Holmes. It's only me." She answered reluctantly.

"Any home?"

"No."

"How old are you?" Sherlock asked, his voice unnaturally soft.

"Nineteen, Mr. Holmes. No home, no family. All I've got is my bag and an abandoned hotel room." Sam whispered as she turned her head away from him.

Sherlock walked out of the room.

"Sherlock..." John said quietly, "We have an extra room, don't we? I mean, she...she only..."

"She only answers me..." Sherlock muttered, watching as a nurse entered the room. Sam flinched as the nurse gently touched the bandages that were around her wound on her collarbone.

"She's lost trust in all the others. There's no telling what happened in that warehouse, or in her past." Sherlock sighed, wiping a hand over his face. Another person to deal with. But she interested him. how had she escaped his notice? Slipped right under his nose?

Lestrade walked out of the room finally.

"The nurse said that Sam would be allowed to leave in the morning tomorrow, as long as she had a home to go to and was under supervision." Lestrade said, "The only option we can see is letting her go to a foster home, but in the condition she's in..."

"She's going to stay with us." Sherlock interrupted the police officer, ignoring the shocked look on his face.

"Sherlock, your house is-! You won't be able to-"

"I'll make sure to keep an eye on her when he can't." John supplied. He sent a glance at the girl. She was looking at a cover of a book, flipping through pages.

Lestrade mumbled something about paperwork and started walking away.

After filling out the paperwork (John did this), the two returned to 221B Baker Street. John straightened up the spare bedroom as much as he could, and he was quite surprised when Sherlock offered to help.

Sherlock went to pick up the girl while John talked to Mrs. Hudson to explain that the girl was going to stay with them. Mrs. Hudson was confused at fist, but as John explained what the girl had done, that she had help them catch the kidnapper, how she only talked to Sherlock, she slowly understood why Sherlock would open his small flat to another guest. In her mind she giggled at the though of Sherlock interacting with a younger woman. It would be interesting to see.

When Sherlock arrived at the hospital to pick her up, he discovered that Lestrade was standing with her, handing her a small box filled with stuff and talking quietly.

A small smile formed on Sam's lips briefly before disappearing again. She gently took the box from her hands.

Lestrade walked up to meet Sherlock as the man strided towards the two.

"I've given her some of my wife's old clothes. They should fit her..." Lestrade murmured, "Make sure you take care of her, Sherlock. I'd hate to see her back on the streets. She's quite intelligent."

Sherlock nodded to him as he beckoned Sam to follow him to the cab he had waiting. He heard Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' under her breath as she passed Lestrade. He acknowledged her with a slight nod.

The two sat in silence in cab for quite a while.

"He's rather nice, that Lestrade..." Sam sighed, looking out the window at the streets she knew like the back of her hand. Every alleyway she could stay in, the people that would occasionally request her help with something. Every street that would allow her to escape if she was running from someone.

Sherlock gave a hum in response.

Samantha fell silent once again. She gazed out the window as she got lost in her own thoughts. Sherlock found himself watching the woman out of the corner of his eyes. He once saw her hand raise up to scratch her shoulder, but she obviously thought better of it. Better not to aggravate her wound.

Sam stepped smoothly out of the black cab as the pulled up at 221B Baker Street. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and pulled her red jacket further around her to shield her from the cold.

As they entered Sherlock and John's small flat, Sam looked around in wonder at the books and the many scientifical instruments that were scattered around the house. (Much to John's aggravation, Sherlock wouldn't allow him to move them.)

"It...It's beautiful..." Sam murmured under her breath.

"You're room is through there. Sorry if it's a bit small." John said sheepishly, pointing at a door.

"I'm sure it's lovely..." Sam twitched her gaze downwards again.

Sherlock watched as she went into her room. Once he heard the creak of her sitting down on the bed, he turned to John.

"So, what did Mrs. Hudson say?" Sherlock questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"She seemed quite amused by the fact that you were going to have a girl living with you, that you had even allowed it, really..." John chuckled slightly as Sherlock's face turned sour, "She walked away the words 'amusing, very amusing.'"

Sherlock walked away muttering bitterly. He sat down gracefully at the kitchen table, fiddling with his (John's) laptop.

John watched him for a moment before walking away.

Amusing, indeed.

**Author's Note**

**Welp, I hoped you liked the chapter! I haven't really decided if I want to pair Sammy with Sherlock and create SamLock, or if I should let the sleeping Shercats lie. Leave a review with your opinion of the chapter and the pairing!**

**I do accept guest reviews :D**

**-Nephie**

**Meerkat Moka- Check out her other stories, too! Also, if you need a beta, I'm more than open! Just PM me or Nephie!**

**-Meerka**


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